snoozies2But is, in fact, a selfie of my slippers. These ‘Snoozies!’ are the comfiest pair I’ve ever owned, as well as the prettiest. My other half bought them for me after getting fed-up of watching me sock- or even skin-surf over week-old fluff and toast crumbs, collect a crust of detritus on my toxic tootsies and then redistribute them on bath mat and sofa cushions.

A relative did give me a pair of slippers last Christmas, which I wore once and instantly discarded. The reason? They were microwavable, lavender-scented slippers.

Indoor footwear, like umbrellas and underwear, should do what they say on the tin and stop short of all-singing, all-dancing novelty embellishments (this is usually where my mum waves her novelty brolly, featuring a thundercloud design that turns into a rainbow on contact with water – but still…).

There were also a couple of design flaws to my hint-of-heather festive slippers:

  1.  You had to lumber about in them because of a briquette-sized gizmo in each
  2.  It didn’t seem hygienic putting them back in the microwave after I’d walked round the house
  3.  Did I mention they were scented? Why?

As I’m sure they didn’t come cheap, I consigned them guiltily to the back of a cupboard, resolving to try again when the mood took. The idea of buying a replacement pair seemed to top ingratitude with profligacy. What – go into M&S and lavish nearly a whole fiver on a pair of Footsies? What madness!

I suppose going barefoot in the dark had a certain cachet and rationality in summer, but treading the boards au naturel lost its appeal once the papers started running stories about giant tree spiders migrating indoors. A thumb-tack and a sharp-edged Quaver later, I was ready to slip into something a little faux-fur lined.

Snoozies, where have you been all my footworn life? Come to mama!